


The Rapture Of The Horns

by Silverskin



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Transformation, Foreplay, Human Transmutation, M/M, Mind Control, Nipple Play, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 08:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17557208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskin/pseuds/Silverskin
Summary: An alternate version of the Theseus and the Minotaur story.





	The Rapture Of The Horns

**Author's Note:**

> First written in 2013, minor rewrites and corrections made.

Prince Theseus, Athens’ most heroic son, stood silently at the prow of a ship, the midday sun warming his broad golden shoulders as he looked out across the sea towards his destiny, lying in wait on the island ahead.

Fathered by both king Aegeus and the god Poseidon, who had both lain with his mother Aethra on the same night, a mix of mortal and divine seeds flowed hot in the young man’s veins. All in Athens, men and women alike, admired him as much for the beauty of his form as for his bravery as a warrior. Taller than any man in Attica, shoulder-length brown hair flowed in soft curtains that cast shadows over his fiercely strong face, emerald-green eyes, chiseled cheekbones and angular jaw that would alone have made him the apex of masculine beauty. But he possessed all the physical virtues a warrior could have. A broad, near-hairless chest, brown-nippled and swelling with strength upon every breath, lifted full and high above a wasp-waist, crammed to bursting with a dizzying formation of tight fatless muscles. They plunged down his stomach, all leading the eye to one place, that slightest of calfskin garments laced low on his hips and bulging proudly, straining from the burden of the demi-god’s heavy, fecund loins. At the rear, it barely covered half of his two full, square buttocks, firmly commanding his herculean legs. Leather bindings criss-crossed his toned calves all the way to the knees, holding in place the sandals that had not left his feet these five days. Not since leaving Athens.

Athens...the very city the god-spawned hero was on this journey to defend.

The great power of the Greek world was Crete, who’s king, Minos, had years earlier sent his son Androgeus to take part in the Athenian games. Being strong and skilled, Androgeus had excelled, winning the hearts of the masses…and the jealousy of the Phallantides, Theseus’ power-hungry cousins. Filled with resentment, they had murdered Androgeus in the night, leaving the enraged King Minos to fall upon Athens with his mighty army by sea. King Aegeus had no choice but to surrender the city, and when the killers could not be found, Minos instead set out terms upon which Athens would be spared.

Every seven years, seven young men of city’s noble families were to be collected by boat and taken to Crete. All were to be given as sacrifices to the creature the very name of which made most Greek’s blood run cold, and whose origin was a dark mirror of Theseus’ own…

The Minotaur.

After ascending to the throne of Crete, Minos had prayed to Poseidon to send him a snow-white bull as a sign of the god’s support, promising to slaughter it in the god’s honor at a grand festival in Knossos, the capital. Instead, Minos, so enraptured by its elegance and strength, chose to keep it as a symbol of his own power, sacrificing instead one of his own bulls. Enraged at the insult, Poseidon had the goddess Aphrodite cast a spell on his queen Pasiphae, who fell madly in lust with the divine animal. She in turn had the great genius Daedalus make a hollow wooden cow, and climbed within it to join with the living idol. Thus the monstrous Minotaur, its true name known only to the royal family, was spawned. Being the cursed offspring of man and beast, part mortal, and part divine, it quickly grew to become wild and ferocious, so after consulting the oracle at Delphi, Minos had Daedalus construct a huge maze to hold it.

Years had passed since those events and now the third time of atonement had arrived. Knowing that under Minos’ peace terms only the death of the creature would end the sacrifices, Theseus had volunteered to go as one of the seven, determined over the objections of his father to slay the beast and rid Athens of its horned foe forever.

He looked back over his shoulder at his athletic companions, all milling about the deck as lines of Cretan oarsmen powered them towards the beach. The ship’s keel slid softly onto the sand, her tanned crew drawing in the black sail while others threw fixing ropes to men on the tideline. Knowing his weaponry had already been smuggled in by trusted traders, he and the rest headed inland in a train of horses, the dry dirt road winding its way towards the capital. Crowds of curious villagers and townsfolk lined the route, staring pitilessly at the men who would be at the very heart of the upcoming celebrations. Soon enough they were upon it.

Knossos.

The cities’ tightly-packed mass of square, white, mud brick dwellings rose in a disorganised mass towards the imposing sight of the royal palace beyond. Sitting high on a hill, it’s brightly coloured, flat-roofed wings with their blood-red columns glowed in the afternoon sun. Theseus was expecting the massed throngs of the city to meet them with contempt when they entered, but instead it seemed a carnival atmosphere had enveloped all. Rose petals rained down on them from the rooftops, and crowds danced and cheered to pipe music. Maidens threw flower garlands over the heads of the Athenians and their horses as if they were returning heroes. But of course, Theseus knew the truth of it. They were merely prize cattle being led for slaughter: the very best gifts Crete could offer Poseidon to arrest his rage.

Through the ecstatic throngs they pushed, all the way to the royal residence. Alighting from their horses, they climbed the guarded steps to its imposing entrance. Two enormous marble bulls flanked the gateway, each as black as jet, reminding those who entered of the true source of this kingdom’s power. Within lay a vast open courtyard, its fringes shaded by a rainbow of silken awnings, protecting the elaborately dressed elites seated beneath from the scorching rays. The Cretan aristocrat looked towards the approaching Athenians, their faces a wall of superior distain.

Theseus felt a moment of panicked realisation. Some of these men would surely have visited the Greek games, seen him compete there, and might recognise him. He hurriedly drew as much of his brown curtains over his face as he could and aimed his gaze at the ground, hoping the heavy shadows cast by the lowering sun would help disguise his heroic features.

Every eye followed the athletic, scantily-clad men as they walked the spearman-flanked path to the royal box, lining up before the island’s enthroned lord. King Minos, the most powerful man in the Greek world, sat gripping the bull-headed armrests of his golden throne, a spiked silver crown resting on his curling grey hair. This was the last person from whom a warm welcome would come. His cold, unwavering stare cut straight through the warriors, only breaking away when a young man ahead of him rose from his stool. It was Ariadeus, the king’s youngest son, recently come of age and made high priest of the bull cult. His hands and face rose dramatically to the heavens, the sleeves of his crimson cowl sliding back as he readied himself to invoke loudly.

“Mighty Poseidon! Lord of the wine-dark sea! Guardian of our shores! We offer these! The spoils of war!" he exclaimed, his arms lowering towards the Athenians.

“Heroes of men! Soldiers of the sword! Tomorrow we send them to your mighty son!”

With that, the gathered gentry of Crete burst from their seats and erupted into cheering, hailing the men’s arrival and the protection their ghastly demise would soon earn them. Ariadeus stepped forward, followed swiftly by more robed cult members, who surrounded the Greeks before guiding them to rooms in the palace built solely to ready the offerings for their entrance into the maze. One man would be sent in each day for the next week, with the first to enter the following noon.

Throughout the evening they were prepared by the hooded priests with incense burning and countless incantations, their bodies bathed in oil and the symbol of Crete, the double-axe head, daubed upon their chests. Ariadeus stood watching, his probing eyes never leaving Theseus as a thick horse hair brush spread yellow saffron paint across his Titan-like pectorals.

_He suspects._

Theseus was certain of it.

Now he had to get to the labyrinth as soon as he could, before his presence was revealed to the king. But he would find no opportunity to do so. Too soon, the time for their final night’s sleep came, and each were led to their own rooms, only a cold stone altar within each to serve as a bed. Theseus lay down under the watchful gaze of priests and guards, who chained his wrists and ankles, guaranteeing no last-minute flight of their precious human carrion.

Half an hour passed, with Theseus’ bulging arms testing the manacles several times, but to no avail. He seemed doomed. Surely it wouldn’t be long now before the King’s soldiers burst in and took his life. As that very thought crossed his mind, the heavy door beyond his feet creaked. Flickering yellow rays burst through the gap as it opened, he assumed to be followed by an enraged hoard of spearmen. But instead, only a single hooded figure appeared. He stood silently in the doorway for a moment, oil lamp in hand, letting its gentle light pour down on the shackled hero’s glowing skin. Carefully sealing the door behind him, he paced forward slowly, coming to a halt next to the Athenian’s strong but troubled face. Placing the lamp on the alter next to him, he lifted the hood of his cowl. It was Ariadeus. The callow young prince’s chestnut eyes stared down at him, his soft, elegant features and flowing blond locks catching the lamplight. His expression, though far from murderous or disdainful, seemed mild and unreadable to the prince. He would soon explain however, that he had a use in mind for Theseus that was far more benign than his father’s.

On first seeing Theseus in the courtyard, Ariadeus had known him to be above normal men. His demi-god nature shone from him in a way only a priest could see. In that moment, he felt as if he too had been sent a gift by Poseidon, just as his father had, and likewise recoiled at the thought of sacrificing such divine magnificence to the monstrous half-brother he kept fed and watered within the maze. It seemed almost sacrilege, but he had kept it to himself, wise enough to hide his true feelings behind public spectacle.

“You know who I am,” Theseus stated quietly in an accepting tone, raising a slight smile from the Cretan prince.

“Of course. It was obvious to me. I’ve heard many stories of your strength and heroism Theseus…and of your beauty.”

A hand rested softly upon the Athenian’s mighty chest.

“And I believe I can also guess at your purpose here. You have not come simply to wonder the maze unarmed and be devoured like the others”. He reasoned, feeling the slow strong beat of his mighty heart under the broad plate of muscle.

His other hand lingered softly on the Athenian’s rippling stomach.

“I have an offer for you, one I hope may satisfy both our needs...” came his suggestive tones, a single fingertip toying gently with the rim of Theseus’ naval.

“I will free you and your compatriots, and help you in your dealings with the Minotaur, for one wish in return.”

Theseus looked at him with a serious stare.

“Name your price," He asked, expecting it to be high.

The young priest’s toying expression suddenly dropped away.

“Poseidon still distains the king. He has not forgiven him for his slight. The sacrifices only stay his trident. After all these years, my father has grown bitter and resentful at the rejection. This palace is now a place of misery and fear, not somewhere any sane man would choose to remain. And besides, the thought of sending innocent men to their deaths to pay for my father’s folly holds no joy for me.”

Theseus could see genuine revulsion in the young man’s eyes at the very thought of it.

“Carry me away from this place,” he asked, half pleading, half demanding.

“That is all?” the hero asked, surprised for a moment by the simplicity of the nodding prince’s request, until his mind had fully realised the implications of carrying out his wish.

“But wait, what of Poseidon? Surely he would be even more enraged if one of his own priests liberating gifts meant for him. His waves would dash us on the rocks the moment we took sail.”

It was a simple truth, but one which the young man had already considered.

“Ah, but we would have a guarantor of our safety on-board, would we not? I doubt he would choose to sink a ship carrying the fruit of his own loins."

The Athenian’s jaw muscles flexed under his high cheekbones.

“It seems you know a great deal more about me than most men."

“Oh, we priests hold many secrets. So, what of my offer...demi-god?" Ariadeus challenged.

“Well, it seems I am in no position to refuse," Theseus retorted, smiling slightly as he rattled his chains.

“You have my word”.

With that, the young high-priest moved to free him from his bondage, and after sitting up and making a few sore stretches of his unshackled limbs, both made for the door. As his fingers grasped the handle, a gentle hand took hold of the hero's thick wrist.

“Wait...There is one more price...” he whispered to the warrior, whose eyebrow rose a little, questioningly _._

“I desire to know the taste of you, if only once. Think if it as a small...offering.”

He leaning up to the taller man’s face and placing on his mouth a careful, soft kiss. Theseus, being a Greek warrior, was no stranger to the love of other men, and accepted the beautiful young prince’s terms with ease, running a strong hand up his back and the other into his golden hair, enveloping his soft, succulent lips in a passionate, full-bodied kiss.

With the second price paid in full, the two quietly freed Theseus’ comrades from their cells and told them of his new plans. Once Ariadeus had led him to the maze, the young prince would return and slip them out of the palace to the coast were they would steal a ship and wait for Theseus. With everything made clear, they parted, he and his new companion slipping through the corridors and precincts of the palace like ghosts, coming eventually to a balcony at its rear. There, bathed in moonlight, lay the Labyrinth. As large as the city it sat behind, its towering outer-wall encircled a tangled web of masonry, within which already lay the bones of fourteen innocent Athenians. Theseus clenched his jaw, determined they would be the last. Ariadeus handed him a ball of string, instructing him on how it would aide in his escape from the maze, before providing one last sacred piece of knowledge.

“Asterion...the creature’s true name. Look it in the eyes, speak it, and it will be yours."

Theseus bade him farewell with another kiss and slipped down a winding creeper to the ground. Knowing exactly where the traders had hidden his weapons, he fished them free from the dense ornamental bushes flanking the high walls of the maze. Onto his waist went his sword belt, and he slipped the broad, round shield over his left forearm. Pushing his tightly-fitting bronze helmet down over his face, he jogged forward, its red horsehair crest catching the light of the two flaming torches which framed the towering doors to the Labyrinth. After pulling back the huge bolt, which seemed made more for a giant’s hands, he lifted one torch from its fixing, and yanked with his whole body weight on one of the door’s enormous ringed handles. A low groan issued from its hinges as it reluctantly swung open, just enough for the athletic Greek to slip through. Knotting the end of his ball of twine to the other ring, he stepped inside.

Theseus paused just inside the threshold for a moment, his breath condensing in the cold, still atmosphere, before striding forward to meet the fate the gods had prepared for him. With the starry sky above serving as a ceiling to the roofless maze, moonbeams poured down onto the cracked and weed-strewn slabs beneath his sandals. Yellow light from the hero’s torch flickered against the walls, making the limbs of half-dead vines cast long sinister shadows into the darkness ahead. He knew from Ariadeus that the creature resided at the very core of the sprawling warren, and that his best chance of defeating it was to surprise it whilst it slept. As his path twisted and turned through the uneven corridors, the ball of string span wildly in his palm, the yarn spitting out from between two of his fingers. Even with the high-priest’s guidance, navigating the Labyrinth was proving a near-impossible task for the muscular hero. Dead-ends and looping passages burned precious time, with the demi-god more than once coming upon the string he had lain behind himself. Having lost an hour to the genius of Daedalus’ design, a frustrated Theseus decided instead to make use of his brawn to assist his passage.

Finding another thick-stemmed vine, he lay down his shield and torch and began to climb. From the wall’s top he would surely be able to see the true route to the centre.  Although his logic was good, Theseus had assumed the masonry of the maze to be as sound as its confusing design. But it was not so. As he continued to scramble up the woody, overlapping limbs, the plant’s anchors loosened from their fixings, unable to carry the hero’s flexing bulk. Dry mortar spilling onto his shoulders gave warning of what was to come. He looked up, his eyes widening in panic, as great blocks of stone started heaving and grinding against each other near the top of the wall. Their corners flaked and cracked, their strength destroyed by years of rain and sun, sending a hail of grit down onto the now rapidly descending warrior. Leaves streaked a green slime onto his palms has he slid downwards with incredible speed, and just as his sandal touched the floor, the first mighty block took flight. Theseus dived away, with it missing his head by a hairs-breadth and shattering with a heavy thud. More followed, with the hero rolling out of harms-way as they tumbled in a pile onto the broken pavement with a ground-shaking rumble.

A pall of dust washed out from the uneven mound of rubble, its heavy particles falling like snow on the hero’s bare musculature as he surveyed the gaping breach from which the rocks had poured. Brushing the dry grains from his biceps as he stood, a deflated Theseus cursed his bad fortune, wondering if perhaps his father had been wiser in trying to stop him. This self-doubt however would soon be shocked from the Greek’s thoughts. A blood-chilling sound washed over the Labyrinth, its note deep and uneven, with the unmistakable roughness of a bovine throat.

The Minotaur had awoken, stirred by the noise of the collapse, and was sure to begin at any moment searching out the disturbance in its realm. Theseus scrambled for his shield and torch, his eyes darting between the dark passageways that suddenly seemed to be all around him. His first instinct was to run, but his years of training soon tamed that impulse. His accident had provided him with an opportunity. The beast would come to him now. All he need do was find the right spot from which to strike, but first he would leave a small distraction to draw its curiosity. Scaling the small hill of rubble, Theseus planted his torch upright in its summit. Its fire shone like a beacon as its owner now slid his sword free from its scabbard and slinked off to watch from a shadowy corner a dozen paces away.

Tense minutes passed by with aching slowness for the Greek, whose clammy palm played nervously with the leathered grip of his weapon. With his eyes fixed on the dancing flame ahead, his mind swam in the vast library of useful memories amassed facing countless other foes. Not to mention day after day of sweat-drenched training. All the back-breaking trails and tests. The mock sword fights and wrestling matches. All of it giving him the statue-like frame of a Titan and skills as sharp as the blade in his hand. He would need all of them to defeat this latest enemy, one who’s heavy hoof-falls had just come in range of the

hero’s ears. Grip tightening, goosebumps washed over his sun-soaked skin as the stone-scraping thuds grew louder, echoing around him. A huge horned shadow grew across the floor ahead from a side passage, climbing the rubble mound as its owner cautiously neared. Finally, it strode into view.

The Minotaur.

Confused and surprised, Theseus looked at the beast stood in profile before him. What he could see of it in the dim light seemed nothing like the hideous, malformed image a lifetime of stories had placed in his imagination. As tall as a rearing horse, long black horns curled lyre-like towards the sky from its wide, angular head, and a dense layer of short, milk-white hairs covered its entire colossal body, growing longer over its fore-arms and double-jointed legs. The broad, towering frame was awash with beef, every hefty muscle swelling proudly from its anchorage with perfect, statuesque definition. Far from being repulsive, it was magnificent. Man and bull perfectly blended into a single god-like being.

Reminded of his purpose by heavy club it carried with it, Theseus’ admiration of its aesthetic qualities quickly gave way to more pressing tactical matters. The curious but wary Minotaur reached for the burning torch, its long, tuft-tipped tail dancing nervously in the air as it’s thick fingers slid around the wood.

This was the moment.

With the creature turning its back on him, and its attention focused fully on the flame, Theseus could strike. Just as the beast grasped the torch and started pulling it free from the rubble, the Greek burst from his hiding place, shooting like lightening across the space between them. He leapt upwards as he neared it, planning to bring his sword down hard behind its collarbone to kill it with a single thrust, but it was not to be. As Theseus sailed through the air, the Minotaur sensed the danger, instinctively swinging the roughly-carved club in its other hand. It glanced off the top of the Athenian’s shield, struck the side of his helmet, and sent him cartwheeling towards a side wall. His sword flew from his grasp, planting itself tip-first in the rubble pile while he tumbled with a heavy thud onto the cracked pavement, landing in a sitting position against the wall with his dented headpiece rolling around beside him.

Dazed, his limbs moved sluggishly as he tried to rouse himself, the edge of his shield scraping the stone floor as a massive silhouette moved over him. Torch in one hand, club in the other, the snorting Minotaur filled his blurry vision. Squatting down, the thick golden ring in its pale pink snout glinted as it moved close to the groggy hero. A hot breath blasted from its nostrils, issuing in two waves of steam over Theseus’ handsome, unprotected face. The heavy cloud seemed to search out his mouth and nose, flowing into him as if alive. An unnatural heat carried with it, filling his insides with a strange, furnace-like burning strong enough to drag the dizzy warrior back to his senses. His cleared sight was met by two fierce glowing red eyes, dripping more with instinct than thought, burning purposefully into the Greek’s own. For a few moments, Theseus could not look away. It was as if a spell had fallen over him. Its piercing animal gaze seemed to cut to his very soul.

But his will was still strong, and he managed to shake his mind free, enough sharpness now returned for him to lash out defensively with his battered shield, knocking the torch from the Minotaur’s hand and sending it stumbling backwards over one of the broken stones. Springing to his feet, he shot past the surprised beast and over the rubble mound, snatching up his sword and dashing through the breach in the wall. An enraged roar filled the maze as he sprinted away, followed fast by heavy, quickening hoof-falls behind him. His shapely legs became a blur, carrying him away through bends and turns of the maze for a far greater distance than the hero had truly intended. He had only wanted to put a few moments of time between him and the monster, enough to prepare for the fight, yet he was still running.

 

Eventually he forced himself to a stop. His broad chest heaved as he slumped back against the masonry of the Labyrinth, trying to fathom his actions. Something has spurred him on. He felt as if he had been running from more than just the Minotaur. With his breath slowing, growing awareness of other sensations countered his exhaustion. They pulled his eyes down over his own form, to take in the sight of his erect brown nipples, there thick nubs standing-out proudly from his sweat-beaded pectorals. The skin there felt tighter than it had ever been before, the pinching enough to have drawn his gaze. He could have dismissed this as caused merely by the chill of the air on his perfect skin, or the thrill of a life-or-death chase, were it not for the stirring of another part of his godly form. Further down, his engorging manhood pushed against the calfskin that held it, filling out  the soft vellum until its tip had pushed all the way across to his left hip.

“By the gods...”

Shocked, Theseus’ breath shuddered in confusion and he pushing at the bulge with his free hand, as if trying to send away the organ for its unwanted behavior.

But this did nothing to abate it, in fact, the rejection seemed only to make it grow harder, its swelling crown fighting against the prison holding it back. He tried to lift his hand away, but it refused his commands. Every heartbeat sent another wave of growth along the pillar, and Theseus found himself fighting a growing need to free it. To have it in his grasp. To stroke it. Unknown to the warrior prince, the cause of his unnatural arousal was the very creature now searching him out in its vast domain. For the Minotaur did devour men, but not in the manner all the world believed.

It was a secret only a handful knew, and unfortunately for Theseus, young Ariadeus was not one of them.

A ravenous lust had consumed the beast from the moment it came of age, a lust that had been first meted out on a few unlucky palace guards. It was their embarrassed, half-told stories that had been misunderstood by so many eager ears, spun into tales of a horned monster that ate man-flesh. It would break any chain to sate its thirst, and as it matured, only the strongest and most durable men had the strength to satisfy it for any amount of time, so the Labyrinth and the Athenian tribute proved the perfect solution. Possessed of the seductive potency of its beast father, each man who had entered the maze had been quickly ensnared, only a single wisp of its hot breath on their tongues needed to empty their minds of all worldly concerns and have them surrender willingly to its raw animal need. An endless sexual frenzy had followed for each. Year upon year of unrestrained, unending coupling ravaging their bodies until one after the other they gave way under the sheer strain.

The labyrinth was a prison for man as much as beast, and the Minotaur’s breath spelt ecstasy and death for those who tasted it.

Long recovered from his running, Theseus’ heart still pounded in his chest. The strength of its beat now maintained by the magic corrupting his mind. Closing his eyes, he rested the back of his head against the wall, letting his shield-covered free hand slide slowly off his groin and up his hardened abdominals to his pectoral shelf. Whispered gasps poured from his mouth with every pull of his nipples, his hand drifting from one to the other to rub the erect nubs hard between finger and thumb. He was sinking into erotic exhaustion, his poisoned instincts robbing his strength. Yet still enough of him remembered its purpose, refusing to release the sword in his hand, even as he rubbed roughly at his throbbing bulge with its pommel. So engrossed was Theseus in kneading his manhood with the rounded metal, that it took a few moments for the heavy trot of approaching hooves to drag him back to his senses.

His eyelids parted, and the towering outline of the Minotaur filled his vision once again, standing motionless at the dark exit of a passage. Led by the Greek’s vivid scent, its flaming ruby eyes had only to take in his overtaxed garment to know that it had him half-enslaved already. Theseus pushed his sweaty unwilling physique away from the wall with his elbows, the blade shaking in his hand as he raised it to defend himself. So out-of-sorts was he that he had to remind himself to take a defensive posture, bending his knees and lifting his dented shield until only his eyes peered over the rim. The beast stepped forward, a glow filling the space they shared as the moonbeams hit upon its snowy pelt, and then...it simply stopped. Resting the blunt end of its club on the pavement, it stood motionless just beyond the reach of Theseus’ sword.

“Ast...Aster..."

He tried to speak its name, but the word would not leave his mouth. Its glare burned through the Greek’s skull, somehow commanding his eyes to wander over the rest of its monumental body.

With the Minotaur much closer than before, Theseus could see how truly glorious it really was. A streak of brown hair ran from its chin down its thick neck and midline, mirrored by another running up its spine to end in a bushy crest sprouting from the back of its head. Thinner lines of hair flowed off from both, flowing river-like in and around the borders of each mountainous muscle group, defining them still further than their clean edges already did. Full round nipples, of obscene size and matched the pink of its flat, square muzzle, crowned like two hill-top fortresses the thick wide pectorals dominating its torso. Every limb abounded with countless heaving muscles, its shoulders needing immense power simply to lift arms the breadth of Theseus’ own waist. Nothing seemed out of place or wrongly-sized to the Greek. Nothing. Even the nails at the ends of its thick, furry white fingers matched the glossy obsidian shade of its horns perfectly. It was a work of divine art. A perfect colossus worthy of worship in a temple. But in truth, his detailed study of the monster’s anatomy was now more about preventing his stare from shifting to the one place it should never have wished to go.

Theseus exhaled heavily, fighting the inner demon that kept dragging his eyes back down towards that same spot time and again. Eventually, he purposefully planted his stare there, in a feeble attempt to convince himself this was the choice of his higher reasoning, not the beast’s dark influence. Two huge, engorged, oval gonads, heavy with semen, hung pendulously between its tree trunk-thick thighs, a tuft of dark hair sprouting from the bottom of the brown-furred sack in which they swayed. Clearly this area of the beast too was as much animal as man, as where Theseus expected to see a long dormant member, instead only a large, fur-covered bulge greeted him, with what must have been a sizeable organ lying behind the slit running down its centre, dormant deep within its master’s loins.

Green eyes locked with red once again, only this time Theseus stared back with the same unblinking intensity. Vacant-minded, he lifted slowly out of his defensive posture, somehow lost to the moment. His arms lowered, a heavy clang echoing out as the battered shield slipped from his arm. Only one last symbol of his heroic defiance remained. His fingers loosened their grip on his sword, the fear of being unarmed dissolving under the Minotaur’s wild hypnosis. It stoked a fire inside him, turning to ashes all other thoughts. His plan. His comrades. Athens. It all drifted into irrelevancy. Sharpened bronze slipped from his grasp, chiming his surrender as it struck the stones beneath. With it dropped monster’s own club, rolling from its hand like a freshly-felled tree.

Theseus threw himself up into the creature’s embrace, gripping its huge shoulders and clamping his hefty legs around its torso. The delicious feeling of hard muscle under soft velvet pelt made his skin itch where ever the two were in contact, and Theseus could only hold himself back for a split second to revel in it before slamming his lips hard against the Minotaur’s wet muzzle. His tongue probed desperately, trying to work its way through the two flat rows of clenched teeth inside. They gave way, but not to let him in. A massive slick black tongue poured into the Greek’s mouth, while muscular lips slathering the lower part of his face with saliva, sucking at the potent hero hungrily. Not content with just his mouth, the ravenous beast slid it’s hands down Theseus’ back, cradled his firm full rear, and lifted him up until his chest sat level with its demonic maw. Raised up high, he clung to its horns with both hands, throwing his head back in lust as it consumed the deep cleft between his pectorals. One nipple, then the other, was savagely assaulted, leaving him almost insane with arousal and calling out at the top of his lungs.

“BY THE GODS!!!! YYEEEESSS!!”

Theseus’ ecstasy only served to arouse the Minotaur further, stirring into life the monster organ lurking in its groin. The slit there bulged outwards, it’s taught, furry doors resisting only for a moment the demands of its waking resident to be released. The steaming phallus grew branch-like into the cold air, air now licking Theseus’ exposed buttocks as thick hungry fingers tore away his calfskin. The same length as the hero’s arm from shoulder to fingertips, the gargantuan member widened from the man-sized crown at its tip, to the width of the prince’s thick-chorded neck at its base. Almost with a mind of its own, its upward-curving length flexed manically, searching out the newly-exposed entrance as a thirst-crazed man seeks a well. With the young prince’s legs spread wide apart, an open target lay between his tensing glutes. But Theseus knew nothing of it, utterly mesmerised as he was by the huge inviting nipples flanking his face. Gasping, his tongue ran absent-mindedly across his bottom lip as he moved forward, mouth and tongue unfurling to worship the pink, iron-hard nub to his right. It disappeared in the shade of his oral cavity, but before he could lock his lips upon it, a contact made in his deepest recess sent his spine shuddering. The Minotaur’s member had found its goal, and its slick, dripping tip had set to work furiously rubbing at the skin around a passage only ever touched by Athens’ noble, gymnasium-sculpted sons.

Lightning thundered up Theseus’ vertebrae, leaving him almost paralysed from the stimulation. All he could do was endure, and that was all he wished to do, grasping and rubbing at the beast’s nipples with each hand as he buried his face in its chest.  Eyes closed, he groaned deeply into its musky pelt, and could feel its wild heart pounding against his cheek, its drumbeat the harbinger of an approaching invasion. Obeying its master’s demands, monstrous phallus finally burst inside. White fur brushed the teeth of Theseus’ dark, lust-drenched grin, his eyes rolling under their lids at the ever-deeper, ever-widening penetration. There was no steady width to this titanic phallus, only greater and greater girth, every newly-arrived portion stretching and straining his muscular passage more than the last. Theseus relished it, the monster’s magic exciting his own impressive spear until it stood proud and erect in the space between their flexing stomachs. Looking down at it, he swore for a moment that he saw a bulge shift under his eight flexing abdominals.

The crown had ventured deep, thrusting its way into the prince’s own inner Labyrinth until the full length of the mighty veined column behind had entered and was pushing at his flat, muscled belly from within. With the entire shaft swallowed up, the Minotaur’s furry groin kissed the Greek’s full flexing cheeks. Still seated in its palms, a ragged Theseus pushed himself up off its chest, locking eyes once more with the creature which had, in the space of only a few minutes, turned from his deadliest enemy, to his welcome sexual tormentor. Another throat-filling kiss ensued, with spit falling in steaming strings from between their fighting mouths. Theseus clung firmly to its heavy trapezius muscles, willing the undulating tongue to push its way down into his very core and meet the mighty throbbing hardness already so far within him. A powerful rumble vibrated from the Minotaur’s throat as it sated its thirst, resonating inside the Greek’s ribcage and earning a muffled growl in return. Intoxicated with lust, clear pearls seeped from his throbbing pillar, sticking to the beast’s pelt and leaving glistening strands behind each time it bounced off its furry, flexing belly. While his own juices smeared the Minotaur, Theseus lapped at its wet nose, curling his tongue around the spit-smeared golden ring and into its nostrils like an unabashed Theban whore. A fire burned in his backside unlike anything he had ever known. The monstrous battering ram thundered in and out under its own power, barely a single hip thrust needed from its bulky anchorage to plough its whole hard, flexing length home.

So lost was Theseus in the throes of passion, that his eyes were drawn away from the monster only by the deep yellow light growing all around. A cavernous rectangular hall now surrounded him, its walls lined with rows of burning torches and with a floor carpeted with countless animal skins. He had been walked all the way to the very heart of the maze by the Minotaur, their furious coupling seemingly robbing him of any sense of time or space. Tall wine amphora and baskets of fresh fruit rested in a corner near the imposing doorway through which they had entered, these the daily offerings of Ariadeus and the bull cult, while a mighty fire raged in the hearth at the centre of the room, its glowing embers rising almost to the rafters of the dark wooden roof as its warmth embraced the pair.

The Minotaur dropped to its knees, slipping from inside its newest Greek plaything to lay him back-first into the soft, thick furs. With all its other enslaved lovers, the beast had taken what it wanted at will, savagely debasing each mindless man without a thought for their pleasure, the sheer force of its physical and magical hold over them enough alone to drive them to climax. But with this warrior it was different, for he was no ordinary man, and had, quite without knowing it, changed to rules of this bull-spawn’s pleasure games.

It indulged itself, licking Theseus’ heaving chest and sucking so hard on his rigid nipples that they rose high from their moorings, hard nubs grinding between large flat teeth before being allowed to spring free. A lick curled around the outside of one of the prince’s pectorals, sweeping up a few damp stray hairs protruding from his armpit as it went, the heavy musk saturating them almost making the Minotaur’s tongue spasm.

Its scarlet irises dilated at the vivid male flavour, and it shook its head briefly to regain its senses, before quickly slamming Theseus’ hands down over his head and burying its muzzle deep into each musky erogenous pit in turn. Obscene, curling tongue-strokes slathered every firm muscle from neck to naval, winding its way on an achingly long path to the one area that desired it’s attentions most of all. Thundering like an avalanche through the dense sweated hairs of Theseus’ groin, its wet tip curled around and behind his seed-heavy sack to meet its gold ring the other side. None of the countless sexual experiences in Theseus’ life were adequate preparation for the mind-bending feeling of a hot, dextrous animal mouth rising up his manhood, carrying his swelling gonads high up its length until the sack in which they resided could be pulled no further, popping loose from the muzzle and its relentless assent.

Rumbles of pleasure vibrated through the erect tissue from the Minotaur as it drank him in, lapping at the broad, plump crown to draw out yet more thirst-quenching fore-seed. But it was not enough. It hungered for more. Up went Theseus into the air once again, lifted to his feet by the hips so the kneeling beast could swallow him completely. He gripped its horn-tips, looking down just in time to see his thick, proud member sinking deep into its snout to the hilt. The sight should have repulsed him, filled him with outrage and hate at having his warrior dignity affronted so blatantly by such an unnatural enemy. But instead, with his head rolling back, he welcomed the wet heat of its mouth, his top lip twitching back and baring his teeth to the rafters in a dark grin. Even if he hadn’t wanted this, he knew that he could do nothing to resist such overwhelming might, and that fact seemed only to enflame him even more. He rocked his groin in time with those impossibly tight lips, the Minotaur’s tongue swirling around his shaft on every inward stroke again and again until it had driven him to the very edge. Then, just as Theseus was a hairs-breadth from the zenith, the creature reared back its head and let his Marble-hard herm spring from its dripping maw, eliciting a tortured exclamation from the desperate Greek.

“PLEASE! MORE! I BEG YOU! MOOORE!!”

Given no more time to plea for fresh oral pleasure, Theseus found himself on his hands and knees, the snorting monster impaling his breathless body once again with its full length so deeply it almost seemed it would emerge from his throat. A long, savouring lick ran up his spine, arriving at the base of his skull with a hot blast of nasal air that blew through his damp hair to the scalp beneath. This mass of sensations served only to extrude Theseus’ reason even further, chief amongst them the impossibly erotic tightness in his rear, stretched wide and holding firmly to the slick neck-thick, column filling him so perfectly. His face buried itself in the pelt beneath him, a long moan issuing into the soft bearskin as the first few thrusts turned his spine to water. From then on it was a strength-testing ride, Theseus’ full, round buttocks slapping loudly and with ever-greater speed against the monster’s sinuous hips.

A weak thought crossed his lust-addled mind that this fate must have befallen all the Athenians that had gone before him, the stout swordsmen willingly handing themselves over for the beast to sate itself upon. He could not have been more wrong, for the others had been no more than possessions to the Minotaur, pert muscular dolls to play with until it wore them out. Its actions towards him were quite different, for Theseus was not the only one spell-bound. He may have been on his knees, his pectorals jerking on his ribcage from the jarring penetrations, but the Minotaur was now just as much a slave to him as the hero was to it. For Theseus too was spawned by a god, and held in his possession that same sexual power that now intoxicated the beast with equal force to that which possessed him.

As if he were the greatest of feasts, the Minotaur consumed him. Long sweeps of its tongue gathered up sweat from his broad, triangular back, while every hair on its body stood erect thanks to the impossibly tight waist in its grasp. So compact was it, that the fingers of the monster’s huge hands almost met each other on his belly, and beneath them it could feel its own epic member invading and retreating. Even after a host of savage attacks, the human ring gripping it remained defiantly tight, as if to demonstrate its owner’s physical prowess. More and more laboured became the beast’s breaths, as if the sheer overwhelming perfection of its new mate were challenging the strength of its blood-lust, testing its endurance. It lay back on the furs, lifting the Greek as it went, wanting him to ride its groin as if it were a horse at full gallop.

Theseus took no prompting, bracing his hands on the beast’s knees and bearing down hard onto the red-hot sceptre. Determined to be breached by every inch of it, he threw all the muscles of his majestic body into that quest. His bestial lover looked on snorting, watching his mighty back flexing and undulating from neck to buttocks. A few minutes in that position had the prince’s untouched manhood streaming, almost the entirety of his shaft glazed with a clear viscous coating.

Filled now with a fearless sexual daring, Theseus turned himself around on the demonic pillar, grunting as he felt it shift inside him, his manhood leaving a silvery trail on one of the Minotaur’s enormous thighs. With palms braced either side of its naval, he rode it with even more vigour, meeting its aggressive stare with one of his own and scraping his fingernails against its furry belly. Both were near now. Their breaths growing more ragged and uneven with every passing minute. Theseus reached his arms back, bracing himself once more on the beast’s thickset knees, his torso arching in a way that had his statuesque abdominals stretching long and tight, a bulge rising and falling beneath them with each of his full-bodied thrusts.

Had anyone been standing in the doorway, they would have born witness to a spectacular, other-worldly sight. Two god-like male forms, silhouetted against the raging fire, their synchronised bodies burning in a sexual dance as hot as the flames themselves. Every vein protruding. Every muscle straining. Strong sinuous hips rising and falling towards each other, desperately crashing together like two racks of antlers.

The moment had come. In a supreme act of physical union, they would climax together.

Both heads flung back in unison, a groan and a roar echoing inside the hall and blending into a single deafening call. The Minotaur’s searing seed burst into Theseus, a molten army pouring in through his broken gates, sacking the Athenian’s insides and taking the Greek that one last step over the cliff edge. Heroic semen issued high into the air between them, raining down in a torrent onto the Minotaur’s face, painting its hungry lips with thick, milky-white ropes. Each orgasm only fed the other, a demonic tongue snaking out to taste yet more of the hero’s copious gift, while an excess of its own bestial seed spilled from the Greek’s conquered hole and down the phallus from which it had erupted, greasing the shaft yet further for Theseus’ ardent, still-unrelenting bodily thrusts.

Like sword and scabbard, each male seemed made to fit the other, a feeling so perfect that neither stopped until both were utterly dry, with one last tired upwelling oozing from the Athenian before he collapsed exhausted onto the heaving chest beneath him.

For a few long moments they lay there, one slipping from inside the other, the sound of softening breaths giving way to the crackle of the firewood. But fate would not allow them long to wallow in their post-coital glow, for these two demi-gods had shared each other’s essence, and the result would fall beyond the imaginings of even the gods themselves.

A sudden, violent spasm of their whole frames jolted Prince and beast out of their near-slumber. Against their will, some unknown force had them both leaping to their feet. Theseus stared in shock at the Minotaur, as much from seeing fear in its eyes for the first time as from the rebelling of their bodies.  Dropping to their knees, their manhoods awoke again, rising fast until fiercely turgid. A heat grew in their shaking cores, building until it felt as if they had both swallowed the sun itself. Muscle-saddled spines arched hard, pushing their full chests high up into the air and their heads forcibly back, making Theseus’ long locks spray sweat from the sudden motion. Both their mouths drew wide open, ready to provide the next other-worldly sight for the chamber to play host to. Columns of glowing blue smoke arose from within their throats, climbing high into the warm air of the hall, spiralling around each other and stirring up into a tempest. With greater and greater force it blew, picking up the burning logs of the fire, the animal skins and the food, until a whirlwind of cinders, furs and broken pottery raged around the calm eye in which they knelt.

As the last wisps of godly energy slipped from their mouths, a blindingly bright ball of it gathered above their heads. Free of jolting spasms for just a moment, both were able to take in a few ragged breaths before the next supernatural act began. Two rivers of smoke shot from the glowing sphere, plunging head-long into their throbbing members. Their faces dropped, blank of expression, eyes rolling back to empty whiteness. Blind, and lost inside himself, Theseus felt nothing but the warm, now-familiar sense of being filled by the Minotaur. But it was not the beast’s seed flooding him now. This most intimate of invasions was gifting each with the essence of the other, and would, as they would soon discover, bring changes in both that would surpass even the epic spectacle of their mating,

The first the Athenian knew of it was the tingling in his fingertips. The digits swelled and lengthened, a carpet of brown hairs bursting from beneath the skin around his darkening fingernails. The toes on his feet melted together into glossy grey hoofs, pelt sprouting there too, all while his shins and ankles stretched contorted into new bovine joints. His whole frame engorged, waves of fur rising up his limbs and coating his swelling musculature. It crested his newly-swollen rump, a tail bursting snake-like from the root of his spine as the transformation engulfed his torso at the shoulders and hips. Dark nipples grew as large and prominent as shield bosses as each pectoral swelled into a mighty slab. The groans and gasps issuing from him collapsed into deeper, more guttural noises, the voice box that made them growing cruder in his thickening neck. High cheekbones and square mandible gave way to an even squarer, long-tongued muzzle. The wave of change reached the summit of his skull, sending two huge grey horns erupting out from under the scalp. Olympian magic completed its work with one final flourish, ending where it had begun. Veins swelled at the base of his twitching phallus, climbing like creepers up the lengthening shaft until his manhood was tall, thick, and with a fierce upward curve.

The last remnants of the glowing orb evaporated, and with it the power of the tempest around them, the air shedding its debris onto the stone floor but leaving the perfect uncluttered circle around the two. Theseus dropped breathlessly onto his enormous new haunches. His vision returned, he peered down at the huge herm, jutting so high and proud from between his immense furry thighs that it almost touched his lips.

 _By the gods_...

He tried to speak, but instead only animal rumblings came out.

These changes would have amazed him more if he had been given time to dwell upon them, but a hand pressing against the crown of his head drew his thoughts away. Slowly, he looked up, those same fingertips sliding down his muzzle and the shocked features of his new bovine face. A vision even more unexpected than the sight of himself greeted his eyes. Muscular and handsome, a naked man with long, ice-white locks peered back at him.

_It can’t be..._

Theseus shook his head, questioning his own senses, but it WAS him. It had to be.

Those fire-red eyes. The nose ring now lying broken on the floor. It was the Minotaur, or at least that which used to be, now transfigured into an entirely new and just as spectacular being. They rose from the floor together, Theseus momentarily dizzied by how high he now towered over his lover. The Minotaur was now endowed with a warrior’s body, as perfect as the Greek’s old form. Finely-honed muscle and sweeping curves caught the moon rays coming through the doorway, dustings of white hair wonderfully accentuating the most intimate areas. The stare boring into his eyes was just as intense as before, only this time it emanated from a beautiful human face.

Possessed with the creature’s instincts yet somehow still himself, suddenly Theseus understood its nature completely. It’s lust. Its passions. They all coursed through him now, honest, raw and unrefined. The Minotaur too had gained more than just a human form, and the first words it had even spoken would prove it to Theseus.

“Take me.”

The two demi-gods had shared each other’s essence, and now, for the few hours of night still remaining, each would know sex through the other’s eyes.

Hard, breathless passion consumed them both, almost blending them into one being. The beast, who had taken so many men so wildly, revelled in being taken itself for the first time. And Theseus, once so noble and dignified, now let loose these unstoppable, animal urges at full force, pouring them into the Minotaur’s unconquered human body with his enormous, pulsing member. Climax after bone-shaking climax flooded between them, bathing them inside and out. Each seemed utterly inexhaustible, and would, it seems have gone on forever, had not another powerful entity made its presence felt. With them both panting, arms and legs still holding on tightly, the first few rays of dawn reached over the walls of the maze and in through the doorway, falling bright on their steaming bodies. Its effect on Theseus was immediate. With the dawn chorus seeping into the chamber, his huge bovine bulk shrank, horns and fur vanishing smoothly into him until he was once again the handsome young prince who had set off from Athens what seemed like a lifetime ago. Still in the embrace of his unchanged lover, he looked into those deep vermilion eyes and whispered the name that would finally and forever bond the two, the name now burned into him, body and soul.

“...Asterion...”

There would be no killing today. No victorious Prince would walk from the Labyrinth with a bloodied bull’s head to hold high in triumph. There had been a conquest thought, but both had been victorious, and now the two magnificent men, both born of the gods, departed the maze together, animal skins tied loosely around their hips for the galloping horseback ride to the coast.

And so, turning their ship away from the shores of Crete, the cohorts headed out into the vast Aegean, calm and untroubled by Poseidon. The true story of their adventure would never be known to Greece, kept secret by a grateful band of brothers, honoured to call two demi-gods their friends. Only Theseus’ triumph in the Labyrinth would be remembered by posterity.

The heroic defeat of a hideous half-breed. 

No one would know that his encounter with the Minotaur had never ended. Would know that, so often, as the last of the twilight faded over the painted temples of Athens, he and his white-haired lover would journey high into the hills of Attica together.

To become man or beast at will...

...and lock horns once again.


End file.
